


The Dark Rooms Of Our Souls

by TikolaNesla



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Hollywood, Alternate Universe - Human, Homophobia, Multi, Secret Relationship, and he's doing all of them!, but to his credit he's also making a documentary about his dead bf, no planning we jump into stories like men, on another note tino is the level of dad friend i'm trying to be, there are worse coping mechanisms than making a documentary about your dead bf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-04-19 20:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14245116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TikolaNesla/pseuds/TikolaNesla
Summary: After the death of his boyfriend, Eduard is as torn apart as he was. Pushing his friends away, stewing in his room, neglecting his work, and drinking his feelings, his life seems to be on a downward spiral. But can new projects rekindle his spirit? Can he find what he lost in old and new friends? He really, really hopes so.





	1. Pushing a mountain up another, significantly larger, mountain

**Author's Note:**

> "Film as dream, film as music. No art passes our conscience in the way film does, and goes directly to our feelings, deep down into the dark rooms of our souls."  
> -Ingmar Bergman
> 
> Well. I guess I'm writing an OzEst thing now. Somebody has to. Take it. Enjoy it. Cry a lot.
> 
> Names:  
> Eduard Mets- Estonia  
> Logan Cooper- Australia

Eduard was running for his life.

Distantly, he heard the sound of his boots on the dirt, crushing twigs, crushing leaves, hitting the ground underfoot.  Even more distantly, and more and more distant by the second but deafening still, loud in his head like a tune he couldn’t shake, was the groaning and growling, a faint voice telling him to run, to run as fast as he could, to get as far as he could, _right the fuck now, Eddie, don’t look back, don’t stop, just run._ The forest around him blurred into one rushing green mass through his tears, hot and wet on his cheeks. He didn’t know where he was going; he didn’t know a goddamn thing. All he knew was he had to run, he had to get the fuck away from there before… something. He wasn’t quite sure on that either. The ground was hard underfoot, the coming winter freezing the dirt, but suddenly it gave, suddenly he was falling through the earth, no boots on the ground anymore, no _ground_ anymore, just blackness and growling and _just keep running, Eddie, don’t worry about me, just fucking run_. He was falling down the rabbit hole, down into nothing, down and down and down to who knows what.

Then he landed in his bed. The impact shook him awake. The forest was gone and the blackness was fading as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, but the distant voice was still there- _run, Eddie, just run-_ echoing in his head. Not a dream anymore, just a memory. Just the voice that hadn't left his head in days. The chaos was gone, mostly, and now he was left in the stagnant calm of his apartment. He wasn’t entirely sure which was worse.

All things considered, it was a pretty nice apartment. Very modern. Exactly the kind of place you’d expect Eduard Mets to live in, really, with its wide TV and wide windows overlooking about as much of Hollywood as you could stomach. It looked almost like you could have found it in one of his less out-there films, actually- not one of the space ones, but that one fucked-up dystopia, maybe. It wasn’t the most personal of places, granted, except for the frankly excessive amount of sci-fi posters and the few photographs in little black frames on his bookshelf. Not much evidence it was his house other than that. Still, it was home. Not that it felt like that to him anymore. Not now.

For one thing, it certainly wasn’t the place it had been- the curtains were shut, it was a mess, you couldn’t look anywhere without finding a half-empty bottle of vodka lying there, and the whole place stank of how much he was drinking and how little energy he had to shower. For another, nowhere really felt like home to him anymore. As of recently, Eduard was coming to terms with the fact that sometimes home wasn’t a place. Sometimes home was a person. And there really wasn’t a whole lot of his home left.

He sat there for a while- he wasn’t quite sure how long- staring at the ceiling and waiting for his heartbeat to slow down. Once it was at a less stupid pace, he glanced bitterly at the empty space beside him in his bed, then at the clock on his bedside table. “3:45 AM” glowed blue on the display, blurred by his shitty eyesight but just about legible if he squinted. Well. No use trying to get back to sleep now. By the time he got there, he’d be back in that stupid fucking forest.  He didn’t know what he had been thinking when he first fell asleep, actually. Probably something about how he hadn’t got any rest since he’d got home. Had it been three nights? Two, maybe? Who knew? Who cared? There was awake and there were nightmares. Those are your two choices, Ed. Take your pick. Stay up, try to ignore how empty the place is without him, put on Netflix for some kind of background noise, find his old shows on there and drink your liver into oblivion in front of them, wishing it was more than just the recordings of him. Or go to bed and lie there for ages, alone with your thoughts, seeing that stupid fucking forest every time you close your eyes even to blink, knowing it’ll be worse if you fall asleep, but too tired to stay awake. Some choice. He was stuck. But after a whole lot of one, the other was always more appealing. After that dream, vodka and kid’s TV sounded like a… well, a dream. Only, getting out of bed wasn’t exactly an option, not now. Instead he groped vaguely at the bedside table until he found his phone and his glasses. Enough to distract him. Not enough to make him do anything. Good enough.

Immediately, he saw texts from Tino. There were other texts, of course- people he knew well checking up on him, people he didn’t pestering him about his upcoming film, but the only ones of importance were from Tino. He opened them up. There were a lot there, lying unanswered, left on read.  He was surprised he hadn’t given up on him yet. There really were a lot of them.

_Hey, man, I just heard about Logan. Fucking hell. Are you alright?_

_Yeah, stupid question. Sorry. But fuck, it’s hard to believe he’s gone. I’m here if you need me. Call me. Or text me. Just tell me if you need anything. Any time._

_God, that was probably useless. Just… say if you need me, alright? It’s good to talk._

_How are you holding up?_

_Do you want to go get drinks with me and Berwald? Erszi might be coming too?_

_I’m worried about you._

_Look, man, I get it if you need space but you’re scaring me. Talk to me. Please._

The most recent one was… well, it was understandable.

_Eduard, for fuck’s sake, if you’re still alive, answer me before I come there myself. I’ve lost one friend in the last few days and I’m not losing you too._

He couldn’t ignore him for much longer.  He’d have to see him at the funeral anyway. Whenever that was. What day was it anyway? They’d all blurred together. Plus he’d gone unconscious once and he wasn’t quite sure how long for.

He read Tino’s text again. Jesus Christ. He may as well rip off the Band-Aid before he came to see… well, see all this.

_I’m alive._

Which he was, technically. He shouldn’t have been, but he was. Tino didn’t have to worry about that. Much. To his surprise, he started typing his reply immediately. Really, Tino? What was he doing up at this hour?

_Too late. I’m 5 minutes away._

What? No! No, he couldn’t see him like this!

_Turn back. Don’t text and drive._

He typed for a while. Then his next text showed up.

_Ed. You’re burying what they could find of your boyfriend today. I’m lucky it’s not you too. You haven’t been replying to mine or Erszi’s messages. You’re a lot of things and fine’s none of them. I’m not turning back._

_Also I’m on a bus so sucK IT._

Hm. So the funeral was today. How the time flies when you’re having fun. Eduard knew from experience that once Tino wanted to do something, he was fucking doing it. He was about as stubborn as a human being could get. So he didn’t even bother arguing, he just put his phone down and tried to gather the energy to open the door for him. Maybe he’d try to clean things up so the guy didn’t fuss more than he was already going to, but hey, he was a director, not a miracle worker. In reality, though, instead of doing any of that, he zoned out and stared at the ceiling for what he assumed was more than five minutes because Tino was many things, and punctual was not one of them. By the time he came knocking, he had moved approximately not at all.  Big surprise.

He heard his voice outside his apartment. “Ed! C’mon, man, open up. I know you’re awake.”

He reasoned with himself that Tino would only fuss more if he tried to stay in bed until he left, so he ended up answering the door just to prove he wasn’t _that_ depressed. Even if he kind of was. Tino was standing there in the doorway, looking a bit of a mess but in his own signature Tino way. Not this fucked up kind of mess Eduard himself had become. Messier than usual, though. Messier than he’d expect. Then again, though, he _was_ awake at this hour. And whose fault was that?

“You didn’t have to come,” he immediately told him, “I’m coping.”

Tino gave him a look and walked straight past him, into the apartment. “Eddie. Cut the crap. ”

Eduard shut the door behind him. He decided it was best to shut up until Tino did.

“You look terrible. How much have you been drinking?”

“A healthy amount,” he scoffed, picking up a bottle on his coffee table to down what was left in it. Tino snatched it out of his hands before he could have any of it.

“Ed, it’s 4 in the morning. You are not drinking.”

“I slept last night!” he protested, “Tonight? Is it still night? Probably. Anyway, I slept. I’ve earned it.”

“And yet you’re awake at, as I just said, 4 in the morning.”

Ed opened his mouth as if to argue. And then he didn’t.

“Come on, man. You’re going through hell. I’m not going to pretend I relate- I mean, Logan and I were never even half as close as you were. Nobody was. But I know you still have to look after yourself.” He sat down on Ed’s couch, patting the space next to him. “That means talk to me, Eddie.”

He rolled his eyes, and then went back to scanning the room for the nearest bottle, completely rejecting his offer of a seat. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m dealing with it. _That_ means you don’t need to drive out here at 4 in the morning.”

Tino raised his eyebrows. “Are you, though? When was the last time you ate?”

“Is this what happens when you have kids? Because if it is, I’m never having kids.”

“I’ve had kids for 12 years. I’ve been looking after your dumb ass for almost 20. When was the last time you ate?”

“ _My_ dumb ass? I’m way more sensible than you!” he exclaimed, “I’ve had to bail you and Erszi out 6 times, total! You ever had to bail me out?”

Tino could see Ed trying to change the subject from a mile away. “Eddie.”

He dithered, trying to think of a convincing lie, and eventually shrugged weakly. “Yesterday?”

“ _Ed_.”

“Does vodka count as eating?”

For a little fat guy who came up to his shoulder and looked like “Dad” was his real name, Tino sure could stare daggers into you. “Eduard Kalev Mets, if you don’t fucking answer my question right now…”

He groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose under his glasses. “Fine! I can’t remember the last time I ate, okay? I imagine I probably haven’t eaten since it happened, but I’ve been drinking so much it’s a bit of a fucking blur. Happy?”

“Not even vaguely. How much have you slept before tonight?”

“Drank myself unconscious once.”

“Showered?”

“Nope.”

“Talked to anyone?”

“Like I did that anyway.”

“Left the house?”

“You’re just fucking with me now.”

Tino’s expression softened. Accepting Ed wasn’t going to sit down with him, he stood up and took his face between his hands. How he managed to be such a fucking parent to a guy so much taller than him was a mystery for the ages. Probably just a superpower that came with adopting two kids. “Take a shower. I’ll see what takeout places are open at this hour- I'd cook, but I won't put your kitchen through that. I’m feeding you, I’m staying with you all morning, I’m coming with you to the funeral, and then you can drink this bullshit away all you like, just as long as you do it with Erszi and me, because if we carry on worrying about you we’re going to have one more feeling to drink away. Okay?”

Eduard glared at him for a few moments, trying to stare him down, but nobody could win a staring contest against Tino. Tino had never backed down in his life. Stopping him from doing what he wanted to do was futile, stopping him from helping people he loved- which apparently meant Ed- even more so. Ed may as well have tried to push a mountain up another, significantly larger, mountain. Eventually, he just nodded and rushed off to the bathroom before Tino could see him cry. Staring contests were hard when you were sleep-deprived and close to tears.


	2. My Kids Are Dumb As Shit

The water washed over Eduard’s skin, taking with it all the grime amalgamated by a month of barely washing and three days of self-neglect. His hair was so oily he could have sold it to an energy company and struck it rich, his clothes might have needed burning, and his armpits didn't bear thinking about. The water ran pale brown down the plug, slowly fading to clear as he scrubbed and scrubbed at himself.

While he was away, he had missed his bathroom, with its assortment of soaps and salts and essential oils. Every time he and Logan had walked down to the freezing riverbank to vaguely rinse themselves, he had promised himself a long, hot bath the minute he got home, maybe with a bath bomb or something. He didn't know how Logan did it. The man could go ages without cleaning and seem so incredibly unbothered by it. Eduard would've been impressed if he wasn't the one having to cuddle him.

Now Eduard had his bathroom back, he would do anything to swim in that ice-cold water with him again. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend for a moment he was there, submerged to his hips, Logan playfully hurling waves at him with his strong, sturdy arms, but the memories soured in a fraction of a second and he remembered, like whiplash, that the fairytale they'd shared was just that. He opened his eyes. One thing that could be said about showers: they made it very easy to convince himself he wasn’t crying. He stood there a while, long after he’d finished getting clean. Just until he was finished absolutely not crying.

He stepped out, dripping wet, and grabbed a fluffy white towel off the rack. He dried his face and dripping hair and put on his glasses, then wrapped it around his waist. As he did, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Even now he was clean, he still looked a mess. Dark circles sat under his eyes, he badly needed a haircut, and if he wasn’t weirdly thin before he certainly was now. He would have a quick shave, but… meh. Outside the bathroom, he heard Tino’s voice.

“Yes, dear, he’s fine. Or, he’s alive, at least, thank God. I’m staying with him tonight, just to make sure he eats something. Poor guy looks half-dead. I hate seeing him like this. I mean, I can’t even imagine...” He paused for a while. “Okay. I will. Okay. See you at the funeral. Love you. And go back to bed, for fuck’s sake!”

Well, shit. Now he _had_ to shave.

 

* * *

 

He came out into his bedroom a few minutes later. A pair of jeans, a Star Wars t-shirt, and a smart blazer lay on his bed, arranged to look like he was lying there himself. His underwear was lying where his face supposedly should be. Having kids, Eduard reasoned, does strange things to a person. It was actually kind of sweet. This was his go-to outfit. Smart, but down-to-earth. Tino had been paying attention. That would be less surprising if Tino actually had a sense of style. He had managed to avoid the brunt of Hollywood’s superficial glamour, though that in itself made for a nice gimmick. On one memorable occasion, Eduard had seen a tweet comparing the outfit Tino had accepted a Golden Globe in to the one a tabloid had caught Eduard walking to the supermarket in. You can do that sort of thing if you’re Tino’s build. Not that Eduard was in the same ballpark as envying him- there was being typecast, and then there was Tino playing Santa Claus in maybe 5 different films.

He put on the clothes. Nice change from the shit he’d been wearing for the past few days, but they felt wrong, like someone else’s. Too good for him, even though he’d bought them himself. How was he supposed to be effortlessly elegant Eduard Mets now? How could he ever be that man again? His own clothes felt like a disguise.

Then again, maybe that was what he needed. A disguise. Just until he stopped worrying Tino.

He smoothed his blazer, ran a brush through his hair to really sell the image, and returned to the living room. Tino had given it a quick tidy- not a huge one, but the curtains were open on the city lights, the various bottles that used to be full of alcohol lying around the place were thrown away, and he'd put a few lamps on. Tino himself was on the sofa, flicking through his phone.

He turned it off and looked up when he saw him come in. “Good shower?”

Eduard nodded and forced a little smile. “Yeah, I feel way more… myself, I guess. Thanks.”

“You shaved too.”

“Facial hair doesn’t suit me.”

“Didn’t even know you could grow it.”

“Yeah, well,” Eduard shrugged, “A month camping in Alaska ought to do it.”

“It looked terrible.”

“I know.”

“The otter look doesn’t suit you.”

“Thanks.”

Tino patted the space next to him. “Sit with me. Pizza’s on its way. Ordered your favourite.”

“Cheese?”

“Yes. You're so incredibly white.”

“We’ve all seen you dance, Tino.”

Tino grinned, putting his arm around his waist and his head on his shoulder. Eduard’s face mirrored his. “That's fair. You’ve got your sense of humour back.”

“I told you, good shower. Good shave. Feel a little more myself.”

“Good.”

He didn't believe him, that much was obvious, but an unspoken agreement passed between them that Ed had done enough wallowing for the past few days. As distractions went, Tino was ideal.

“How’s the family?”

“They're good. Nothing new, really. Berwald sends his love.”

“Sweet of him.” Like he hadn't had condolences texted his way from everyone who knew about him and Logan. That wasn't fair- Berwald was a good guy, and it wasn't like he could do much more than that. Nobody could. But it lost all meaning before long.

“Pete’s settling into high school. He's not so fond. Don't blame him, poor kid. I should've sent him to school back home.”

“You'd send him to Europe to avoid the American education system?”

Tino laughed. “Eddie, I'd send my kids to Pluto to avoid the American education system.”

“Understandable. But also he doesn't speak Finnish,” he pointed out.

“He'd pick it up.”

“No he wouldn't, it's Finnish.”

Tino nodded reluctantly. “You're right. My kids are dumb as shit.”

“So is Finnish.”

“Then maybe he would manage.”

“I wouldn't risk it.”

At that point, the bell went off. Tino was up like a flash. “Pizza! I'll get it. You... go put on a film. Your choice.”

Tino rushed off to get the door, leaving Eduard to look under cushions for his remote. For a moment, as he turned his extravagantly-sized TV on and opened up Netflix, he was okay. Then it suggested he carry on watching _Logan Cooper- Nature’s Deadliest_ and he remembered him complaining that the studio wouldn't let him call it _Nature’s Maddest Cunts_ and he wasn't so okay anymore. He momentarily selected it. Logan grinned out from the poster image, posing with a crocodile. Before he met him, he had thought it was impossible that someone could be as enthusiastic as Logan was on TV. It seemed put-on. But Logan really did have that much of a lust for life. And a lust for everything, but that was besides the point.

He moved on to some Marvel film. No use worrying Tino more than he already was. Pretending things were okay seemed to be doing pretty well despite that little voice at the back of his mind. One of many.

_You know Logan would have hated this approach._

He would have. His and Eduard's attitudes toward feelings were miles apart. Eduard was happy to push things aside and march on, but Logan had always insisted on talking about things.

_Well, Logan isn’t here, is he?_

What was Eduard's life coming to when he needed Tino of all people to finish with the pizza already and talk him out of binge drinking at four in the morning?

He was back eventually, carrying three huge boxes with him. “Sorry about the wait, the delivery guy recognised me. I'm this close to wearing a fuckin’ mask everywhere.”

“Did you really need to get that much?”

“Did you really need to go three days without eating?”

He rolled his eyes but there was nothing he could say to that. Tino put the pizzas out on the coffee table and sat next to Eduard. “Hit play. Eat some pizza. Come on.”

“Would it be a bad idea to drink?”

“I never thought I'd say this, but yes.”

“Who _are_ you?”

Tino shot him a look. “It’s not even 5am and you have a funeral later.”

Eduard groaned, but turned the film on and grabbed a slice in reluctant agreement. He ate slowly for about three mouthfuls- the pizza tasted like nothing and he honestly couldn’t have cared less about food- but then hunger caught up to him and he demolished almost two of them in the first ten minutes of _Avengers_. Tino didn’t say anything, but he saw him smile to himself out of the corner of his eye.

By an hour in, Tino had fallen asleep on Eduard’s shoulder. Not surprising, really, not at this time of night, but the opportunity to drop the act was welcomed. Leaving the film playing, he gently shoved Tino off him, got a beer out of the fridge- who was going to stop him?- and stepped out onto the balcony. The early-morning mid-September air hit his face, as good a wake-up as any, he supposed. The black of the night was turning grey and blue ever so slightly, clouds tainted with gold over the skyline.

_It’s got nothing on Alaska, you gotta admit._

He turned his head. Logan was beside him, holding his own beer and leaning his elbow on the fence, looking out over his shoulder at Hollywood.

“Yeah, well, pollution is like that. You would know. You’re the nature expert.”

_And you’re the scientist._

Eduard snorted. “Sci-fi isn’t science.”

_It’s science but cooler. All the fun bits without the dumb molecule shit._

“Physics is interesting!”

Logan punched him affectionately on the arm. _Nerd._

“Oh, shut up.”

_Neeerrrd!_

“You’re so mean.”

Logan stepped closer to wrap his arm around Eduard’s waist. _You love me._

“Course I love you. I always have. And I always will.”

Logan raised his eyebrows. _Hell of a lot easier to be sure of that now you know you can’t, isn’t it?_

He felt liquid dripping down his arm and looked down. His fist was clenched tight around his can, squeezing it within an inch of its life, drenching itself in beer. He drank what was left in one go and hurled the empty can over the balcony. Logan was gone. All that was left behind was a vague sense of guilt about his littering.


	3. The ‘Personal Life’ Sections Of Each Other's Wikipedia pages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm ill so I just spent a whole day in my pyjamas watching The Good Place, Shrek and Bojack Horseman with my brother basically non-stop, so this is the most productive thing I'm doing today. This needed updating anyway.
> 
> Names:  
> Oscar- Hutt River  
> Charlie- Wy  
> Hunapo- New Zealand  
> Lars- Netherlands  
> Gunner- Denmark

Eduard drove them to Logan’s. A few people were already there. Logan had been a popular guy- he had an easy charm Eduard had always lacked, and with all the charity work he'd been involved in, all the school visits he hadn't even accepted pay for, all the light he brought with him, he was a difficult man not to love. Even if Eduard was a little biased in that respect.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Tino asked, putting his hand on his shoulder, “You want me to stick with you?”

“Tino, I’m fine. Okay? You’ve helped. I’m fine now. I can handle a funeral. You relax, talk to Erszi and Huna or something. Your husband’s joining us at the service, right?”

“Eddie, I want to stick with you. I’m worried about you.”

“I know, man. But I’ll be fine.” He opened the door. “We have a funeral to go to.”

They stepped into the house. His brother, sister, and dogs were sat together on his couch, huddled up. He hadn't seen much of Charlie outside of Logan inviting her over for Christmas every year- she had stayed home in Australia when her brothers had moved to the US- but he knew Oscar well enough. She was a painter and he was- supposedly- an actor. In reality, he was a barista and had been in maybe five commercials, but he promised he was getting there. He'd auditioned for some of Eduard's films, but never with any success- partly because both Logan and Eduard wanted to keep him out of the hell that was Hollywood, but mostly because he wasn't very good. Oscar had been looking after Steve and Chewbarka- a pair of Bernese Mountain Dogs- since the two of them had left for Alaska. They looked like they missed him.

He tapped Tino on the shoulder and nodded in their direction. “I'm, uh… I’m sitting with them.”

“You want me to join you?”

Eduard just shrugged and walked off. He sat next to Oscar, who didn't look totally sure what to say.

“Ed? Hey. How are you, uh… holding up?”

Eduard shrugged. “I'm holding up. You?”

“Yes, I suppose I'm holding up.”

Charlie just nodded.

So, they were all crashing and burning, then.

Oscar furrowed his brow, trying to find the right words. “Did he… I hate to ask, but was it… y’know, painless? Quick?”

Eduard fixed Oscar with a withering glance. He would be tactful, normally, but he was tired and he had never been totally fond of him. “He was eaten by a bear, Oscar.”

“Right. Right. I'm sorry.”

They were silent for a long moment.

“You been to a funeral before?” Charlie asked him.

Eduard stalled, pretending to think, but he was saved from the question when, with perfect timing, Logan’s best friend sat on the arm of the sofa.

Hunapo and Logan went way back. They had grown up together and co-presented their first TV show. Eduard quite liked them, but it felt weird speaking to them without him around. They'd always seemed part of the same package.

“Eddie. Hey.” They put a hand on his shoulder. “You alright?”

“I’m fine.”

Hunapo raised their eyebrows. “Me neither.” They leaned over and hugged him, and though Eduard was far from the most affectionate man in the world, he appreciated it. “I got you,” they whispered, “If you need anything, I mean. Just call.”

Eduard nodded, knowing full well he wouldn’t. “Same to you. Any time. Even in the middle of the night, just… yeah. I’m always awake lately.”

He pulled away. There were bags under their eyes. Ed suspected his might be at least as bad, but he didn’t care to compare.

“Thanks, mate.”

They turned away and started talking to Oscar and Charlie, leaving Eduard to watch the place fill up. He saw the seats Oscar had put out at the side of the room- quite presciently, as they had already run out of dining chairs- fill up, one by one. And this was just them meeting up for the procession. The service itself would be even more stuffed. He spotted Tino chatting to some guy. He caught his eye and forced a smile for him, just to let him know he was alright, or to thank him, maybe, but didn’t say anything. Tino smiled back. 

A woman rushed up to Eduard and leaned down to hug him.

“Ed! I’ve been so worried!”

Erzsébet was closer to Eduard than Logan, but really, who wasn’t she friends with? They swam together, or something. She was an editor, and a damn good one at that- Eduard had insisted on her working on his films since they'd studied together in Tallinn.

“I'm fine, Erzsi.”

“No the fuck you aren’t.”

“I will be,” he assured her, “Don't worry about me.”

“You just lost your boyfrie-”

“Keep it down!” he hissed, looking around to see if anyone had heard. Only Hunapo and the siblings, apparently, but he wasn’t about to go all this time keeping things quiet only for someone outside of their inner circle to overhear the wrong thing and broadcast “Eddie Mets likes dick” to the whole world like so many scribblings on walls in the boy’s bathrooms at his school.

“Sorry. Sorry. Just… I worry about you. You haven’t been answering, I’ve been so worried. I mean, I’ve called, and just… I know it’s hard, I get it, and I’m not saying you have to be around 100% of the time, obviously, take all the space you need, but I just get scared that-”

“Hey. I get it. I’m sorry.” He thought about what Tino had said- _I’ve lost one friend in the last few days and I’m not losing you too._ Maybe that fear wasn’t unfounded.  “You don’t have to worry about me doing anything stupid, though. I’m okay. Really.”

She seemed to believe him about as much as he did, but she nodded and went off to talk to Tino, leaving Ed to his own devices.

Logan’s house was worlds away from Eduard’s apartment- it was cosy, personal, beautifully down to earth. Bits of Logan-y rubbish were everywhere, mismatched rugs and blankets and pillows, little souvenirs adorning every shelf, and he had painted the walls bright colours that almost made Ed feel out of place in his black suit. When he was alive, it had felt more like home than his own house. Now it felt like an empty shell. 

His eyes were drawn to a photo on the windowsill of Oscar and Charlie. They were at a beach somewhere, about 8 and 13, and there was a flower in Charlie’s hair and a towel around Oscar’s shoulders. A homemade necklace was dangling from the corner of the frame, a woman's elegant engagement ring on a leather cord.

* * *

**2012**

Logan had grilled dinner on Eduard’s balcony, encouraging him to put his feet up for a while. Ed, of course, opted for working on his script instead, but the gesture was appreciated.

“I always want to cook for you,” Logan had told him, flipping a chicken breast, “Back home, I always start thinking “Eddie’s getting the best barbie of his life when I see him. He won't know what hit him.” And I start planning it and everything.”

“So this meal’s totally planned?” Eduard had looked up from his laptop with a smile that didn't hide that he already knew the answer to his question.

“Oh, come on. When have I ever stuck to plans?”

With an oven, Logan was a mediocre cook at best, but he could barbecue like a pro. Ed hadn't even realised there was a skill to grilling until he met him. Logan handed him a hot dog and sat with him on the bench. They huddled up on the balcony eating together while their seconds toasted, watching the sun slip over the horizon.

“Beautiful, isn't it?”

Logan, on his part, couldn't look away from Eduard. The sunset reflected off the frames of his glasses, turning silver into gold. He had always laughed at him for being the kind of guy to eat ribs with cutlery, but there was something endearing about his incessant politeness, the way his lips gently pulled the meat off the fork as he admired the colourful expanse of sky before him. He was glowing, Logan realised, a halo of light around his face and his soft, golden hair.

“Beautiful,” he echoed, taking his mother’s engagement ring out of his pocket and holding it in his palm. He put down his hot dog, stood up, and leaned his arms on the glass barrier. In his hand, the ring rested between his thumb and forefinger, held tight. He looked over his shoulder at Eduard- his beautiful genius, the love of his life, then back at the ring.

“Something on your mind?”

He shrugged. “Nothing bad.”

“But something?”

“Something.” Logan turned the ring over between his fingers. “I love you. I mean, with my whole fucking heart. You know that?”

“I love you too.”

Logan wondered if Eduard could tell what he was about to ask.

“I hate being so far away all the time. When I'm calling you, it's like… that's when I'm at home, you know? And here, especially, just being with you for real… that’s home.” Logan turned to face him, going down on one knee. “Ed, will you marry me?”

Eduard was speechless for a moment. Silent.

“I can live here, with you. Change to a different studio- a bigger one. We can have a home together. A family, maybe. Or just you and me. Whatever you want, just… will you?”

Eduard didn't say a word for a long moment. His eyes were fixed on that ring- the perfect future with the man he loved, right ahead of him. They flicked up to Logan. A future of domestic bliss, all the possibilities, the thought of a life together, shone in his eyes. He thought about it. Waking up with him every morning, watching bad TV on the sofa, settling into routines, arguing more than they needed to about dinner, their names on the ‘Personal Life’ sections of each other's Wikipedia pages ( _ Mets is openly bisexual, and lives in Los Angeles with his husband, TV personality Logan Cooper) _ , getting a few pets, maybe a kid or two. He thought about Tino, married almost a year now and loving it so far, for now at least. Then he thought about his parents. He made up his mind. 

“Logan, I can't.”

It was Logan's turn to go silent.

“I would. You know that. In a heartbeat, I would, but…”

“But you can't,” he finished.

Eduard nodded. “I'm sorry. It's… you know how Hollywood is. I come out and everyone jumps down my throat about it.”

“You don't have to! We can make it a small thing, keep it on the down-low!" Even as he spoke, Logan knew it would never work. 

“I can't. I really am sorry. You know I would.”

Logan nodded and sat back down. He wouldn't. They both knew he wouldn't. Neither said it, but the very fact of it felt like Eduard had swallowed a stone. He could try to compromise, at least.

“What if… what if you moved closer? Not in with me, but nearby. Then we could see each other, at least. I mean… I miss you too. I want you around. If you're alright getting yourself a new place, that is. If not, it's okay as things are.”

Logan smiled. 

“I'd like that. I really would.”

* * *

Eduard excused himself and went upstairs, making a beeline for Logan’s room. He sat on his bed- practically his own, really- and fell onto his back. It was still unmade. If he closed his eyes he could see Logan crawling out of bed for the last time. He had his movements memorised from watching him every morning they were together- the way he clumsily rolled over, stretched right, then left, then got up, scratching his ass. He could see Logan getting ready, loading his tent and his cameras and tripods and his huge hiking backpacks into the car.

He could see him leaving the house and never coming back.

“Did you need a minute?”

Eduard jolted up to see Oscar standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“I can go. Sorry. I thought you were going to the toilet.”

Eduard shook his head and sat up. “No, no, I'm fine. You wanna sit?”

Oscar took a seat next to Eduard. “Are you alright? Really?”

“Oh, yeah. Fantastic. Totally… clutch.”

He nodded. “Sorry I asked that. Earlier, I mean. I shouldn't have brought it up, it was rather insensitive.”

“It came from a good place,” he shrugged, “I suspect I'll be asked more insensitive things.”

“Still. I imagine it’s not the sort of thing you want to think about.”

“I watched him die. He was ripped apart. I got his blood on my shoe. It’s hard not to think about.”

Oscar nodded. “I know. I would love to tell you that everything will be okay, but I truly can’t. Then again, we Coopers don’t have a good track record for dealing with grief well. I can’t speak for you.”

“Honestly, neither can I. I don't know how I am at dealing with anything. I mean, there was… well, the situation was very different.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway. Do you want a moment?”

Oscar nodded. “If that’s alright. Thank you.”

Eduard got up and went back downstairs, sitting back down with Charlie and Huna, who was talking to Tino about werewolves of all things. He leaned toward her.

“My mother’s.”

She blinked. “What?”

“It was three years ago. I think my sister had to convince our dad to even invite me, but yes, I’ve been to a funeral before.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Wasn’t much of a mother,” he shrugged, “Are we waiting for anyone for the procession?”

“Just Oscar. You, me, him, Huna and the dogs are following the hearse in the car the funeral service gave us. Everyone else is getting themselves there.”

“Don’t they tend to use limousines for this sort of thing?”

“It’s Logan’s funeral,” Charlie shrugged, “He’d want something less flashy. Honestly, I think Ozzie’s traditionalism is the one thing standing between us and holding the whole thing in a bar. Though we are getting drinks after.”

Eduard almost smiled. “Guess he would, wouldn’t he?”

“Every formal event that man went to,” Huna added, “he'd throw the dress code out the window and turn up in a Hawaiian shirt.”

“He just didn’t care. Once he turned to me at the start of my own film premiere and said: “Ed, if that suit’s too stuffy I have a t-shirt in my pocket.” A whole t-shirt, just in case my suit was uncomfortable.”

Charlie was incredulous. “No, he didn't. How?”

“He was wearing cargo shorts.”

She blinked. “Oh. Yeah. Yeah, that checks out.”

“He was really something.”

“You just liked seeing him in cargo shorts,” Hunapo snorted. 

“Can you blame me?”

“He did have good legs,” they conceded, “if you don't mind me saying.”

“No, I get it. He had good everything.”

Charlie glared at the two of them. “Please stop objectifying my dead brother.”

“Sorry.”

Eduard cleared his throat. “Yeah, sorry.”

They were interrupted by a tall, stern man in a black suit with slicked-up hair and the same air as every slimy executive producer Eduard had worked with. He cleared his throat and extended a hand to Eduard.

“Mr Mets. My condolences.”

“Oh!” Eduard stood up and shook his hand politely. “Thank you, uh...”

“Lars Mooren.” He fished a business card out of his breast pocket with practiced hauteur. “Primestone Talent Agency. Pleasure.”

Oh. Wonderful.  _ Exactly  _ what Ed was hoping to run into at a funeral.

“Well, thank you. I appreciate your condolences.”

“I’ve got to say, Mr Mets,” Lars smiled self-effacingly, “I’m a bit of a fan. Love your films.”

“Thank you.” Eduard had directed a lot of fight scenes in his time. He could easily imagine himself beating the shit out of this guy. “You were a friend of Logan’s?”

“Yes, very close. He and I go way back.” He wondered if this man had ever been genuine in his life.

“Is that so?” Eduard clenched his fists in the pockets of his slacks. “Me too. He and I were great friends.” He gave his most passive-aggressive smile. “Very close. I don’t recall him ever mentioning you, though. What did you say your name was? Lars?”

He was sweating. “Yes.”

Eduard nodded thoughtfully. “Yes. Oh, yes, we’ve met. You’re that agent. You work with Gunner, got him into a few of my films.”

“Oh, of course. Gunner. Well, good to see-”

“Come to think of it, Logan did talk about you. We were calling, actually, you and me. Organising Gunner’s audition, years ago now. He was visiting, overheard us, and I had you on speaker, since I was making us dinner at the time. He overheard.” Eduard tilted his head and looked Lars straight in the eye. He looked a little uncomfortable. “You must have slipped his mind, for such a close friend. He didn’t recognise your voice. I recall he said something about you seeming like another of those cagey Hollywood types. A mistake, I presume. I’m sure you’re actually lovely. I’m sure you’re in no way the sort of man who, I don’t know, crashes celebrity funerals to schmooze off the bereaved?”

Lars looked like a rabbit caught in headlights. Eduard just smoothed his blazer and returned his slippery shark smile.

“Anyway. I’ve had a rough few days. I lost my best friend. He was a good man. He was 35, which is too young to die, and he was the most caring person I ever met but he would have punched the living daylights out of you if he had seen you using his funeral as an opportunity to rub elbows. He could never stand how dishonest people can be. So I suggest you get your stuff, put back the knives and forks you’ve stolen, and go. Alright? A man has died, Mr Mooren.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that bit with Huna and Tino talking about werewolves?  
> Yeah. You know who you are.


End file.
